


Road to Ruin

by nikkithedead



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Original Percival Graves Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Prohibition, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-08-07 11:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16407929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkithedead/pseuds/nikkithedead
Summary: After nearly dying, Credence somehow finds himself in business with a successful bootlegger named Clyde. Sleeping under Clyde's roof (and occasionally in his bed) Credence soon discovers the secret to Clyde's success: a broken, alcoholic wizard with a familiar face. Undone by the trauma he's experiences. Percival Graves' magic has been shattered, and the only spell he can still perform is to refill his cup -- and the cups of Clyde's customers -- with more alcohol. Both Credence and Percival have been left traumatized by their past, but with the other to lean on, they may find that the road that lies ahead of them to be bearable together.





	1. Hannigan's

Credence Barebone had died. But not really. Not properly. Had his mother been alive (had he not killed her) she would have scoffed at that.  _ Pathetic Credence, can’t even die properly. Useless boy.  _ Credence had died, but only a little. Enough of him was alive that recovery was possible, if not entirely wanted. 

Everything that happened, the real events that led to his almost-death, he would learn afterwards. Witches and Wizards called Aurors had attacked him, and in his fragile state as an Evil Dark Cloud Being (an  _ Obscurus  _ apparently) he had all but exploded. Sometimes he thought if they’d just put a little more effort in, they could have finished the job. But that was a dark way of thinking, and he tried not to let his mind wander there. 

It was the Goldstein sisters who had found him, taken him in and nursed him back to health. He’d been confused and disoriented the first few days he was there, but slowly his mind had returned to him. 

They told him what happened. 

A wizard named Grindelwald had infiltrated Macusa, kidnapped and impersonated a high-ranking Auror and caused all kinds of havoc. He had manipulated Credence, and once Credence - and more importantly the Obscurus inside of him - had seemingly been destroyed, he had attacked. With the help of Newt Scamander (Tina said he had met him in the train station) and something called a  _ swooping evil,  _ they had managed to subdue Grindelwald and take him into custody. 

As for the man whose face Grindelwald has taken, Percival Graves, Credence didn’t know him… the real him. Who he was.  _ Before. _ He only ever knew the impostor, the fake with the stolen face and false but shiny words. The one who lied, tricked him, used him.    
  
Truth be told, he hadn’t given much thought to the real man whose face Grindelwald had taken. Credence was the one who had been hurt, who had been manipulated and groomed. Who Percival Graves, the real Percival Graves, was… it was of little consequence to him.    
  
Until they met, of course.

* * *

Leaving the Goldstein sisters behind had been an easy to decision to make, and a difficult one to stick with. Credence needed to strike out on his own, figure out who he was and who he was going to be. But every night Credence spent on the streets, sleeping in abandoned buildings or homeless shelters or not sleeping at all, it became harder and harder to live with the choice he’d made. Hunger was not an unknown feeling to Credence. Besides the belt, starvation had been one of Mary-Lou’s very favourite punishments. But even when he’d had no food in his belly, he’d always had a roof over his head and clothes to keep him warm.

Over the months he stayed on the street, he found that stealing was not quite the sin Mary-Lou had claimed it to be. Stealing food would keep him fed, stealing clothes would keep him warm. At first he was caught, more times than he could count. They’d chase after him, beat him and take back whatever he’d stolen. But after a while, he started getting good at it. Not being seen was always a talent of Credence’s. His ability to blend in, to be part of the background while people’s eyes slid over him as if he didn’t exist use to cause him pain. But now it was a blessing. He learned to move his hands quickly, to deftly take what was not his. After awhile he began to take from people as well. Watches, wallets, jewelry.. Anything he could get his hands on without being seen. 

Every night, Credence lay awake, turning fitfully and trying not remember the things he’d done as the Obscurus. Killing Senator Shaw, killing Mary-Lou… and Chastity… he hadn’t meant to. He hadn’t wanted to. 

Deep down though, he wondered if he had. 

Since nearly dying, Credence had heard not a whisper of the dark thing which lived inside him. He knew it was there, somehow he could feel it stirring, waiting… but it stayed inside, and made no sound. He wondered how long he had before it came out again, how long it would before it burst from his skin and wreaked havoc on the world around him…

He wondered how long it would before it killed him. For good this time.

* * *

 

On the streets, huddled with others like him around a garbage can alight with flames, this is where he met Nicky. 

Credence had seen him around a few times before they were officially introduced. He often had a black eye, or cut lip or some other form of bruise or injury. Credence wondered why. When they met, in the official sense, Nicky explained it as being an “occupational hazard.” 

For a while he always saw Nicky with a girl, a pretty and tall girl with long red hair and dark black eyes. He would come to learn her name had been Carol. After a while, he stopped seeing Carol hanging around. He would come to learn why that was, too. 

The night was cold, and Credence had yet to be able to find a place to hold up for the remainder of it. He was in the yard behind some building, where people without homes or places to go (people like him) came. He was trying to warm himself by the fire, when he heard an unfamiliar sound; laughter. 

Looking around, he found the source to be a tall, lanky boy with dirty sandy blonde hair that fell into his eyes. He knew this kid from around, but didn’t know his name. He’d taken notice of him because he looked to be around the same age as him. The kid was laughing, clutching a bottle that was covered in a brown paper bag. He took a swig from it, and giggled again, swaying slightly. 

A burly man in a black overcoat approached the kid. “Where’d you get that from?” He asked, gesturing to the bottle in his hand. “You shouldn’t be drinking that out here."

Another giggle, followed by a hiccup. “I gots my sources,” He said airily, ignoring the second part of the statement. “And it’s nunna your  _ business. _ ”

The man glowered. “You better share the  _ sources  _ you got, or I might just have to drop a dime on you,” He threatened, taking a step closer. “Or worse.” 

Taking another drink from the bottle of what Credence could only assume was alcohol, the kid smiled. “Slow down there, big guy. I’m not gonna tell you were I got the gigglewater from, but for a tenner I could find some other way to make you happy,” He attempted to finish the statement with a wink, but it just sort of appeared as if he closed both his eyes and then opened them again. 

Credence stopped pretending he wasn’t watching now, as did several others around him.  _ What  _ did he just say?

He didn’t seem to be the only one having a hard time comprehending that statement. “The  _ fuck  _ you say to me?” The man growled, closing in on the other guy. He pressed him back up against the fence behind him and grabbed the front of his shirt. 

Credence could see concern on the younger man’s face, but perhaps he was too drunk to fully comprehend how much trouble he’d gotten himself in. He took another swig from his drink, and slurred a response Credence couldn't understand. Whatever it was he said, it only seemed to make the man harassing him even more furious. 

“You goddamn faggot...”

Far away, Credence heard a police siren. A few other people looked like they heard it too, but no one moved. Credence knew the arrival of a patrol vehicle was enough to scatter everyone, but this one didn’t sound like it would be approaching anytime soon. Credence cleared his throat. 

“Heat’s coming, scram out if you don’t wanna get nailed!” He shouted, trying to stir up panic. The siren sounded again, and even if it sounded far away, Credence’s cry had worked: everyone ran. Reluctantly, the larger man let the other go, glaring at him for a last moment before he too turned tail and ran out. 

The younger man let out a breath, watching as his attacker ran off. “Yeah, ‘ats right, go chase yourself!” He shouted after him. Fortunately, he seemed to be too far away to hear. He grinned drunkenly. After a moment, he noticed Credence, the only other person left in the yard. 

Staring at him with a deeply concentrated look, after a few more moments had passed he asked “You do that on purpose?”

Credence nodded. 

The guy frowned. He was quiet again. Then, a smile. Stumbling over to where Credence stood, the guy clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You know what, you’re alright, kiddo.” He took a long drink, and then hiccuped. 

Credence looked him over, and wondered what would happen if he left him on his own tonight. Nothing good, he was sure. The kid was ossified. “You got a place?” He asked quietly. 

Another goofy grin spread across his face. “You big flirt!” He giggled. “I do, but it’ll cost ya’.” He looked Credence over, and Credence felt his face heat up. He tried to stutter a protest, but the guy cut him off. “Oh alright, I’ll throw you a bone for scattering that creep.” Another drink. “C’mon, let’s blouse.” 

He began to saunter out of the yard, swaying from side to side. Credence followed, and took hold of his arm to steady him when he almost fell over. Hiccuping again, the guy looked up at Credence with a dazed expression. “I’m Nicky, by the way,” He said, before vomiting on Credence’s shoes. 

* * *

It took a long time to get back to the place where Nicky was staying, mostly because he was too drunk to give proper directions. It was late when they finally found the place, in a not-so-good part of town that he had never been in before. 

The place Nicky took him too was a tall, somewhat dilapidated building tucked so thoroughly into a corner of the street that if Nicky hadn’t pointed it out, Credence doubted he would have seen it.  The sign on the front read in peeling letters “Hannigan’s ----” whatever the second word had been, it was long since faded away. 

It took a bit for Nicky to convince Credence this was the place, but only because this was the third building they’d been too that night. 

“Trus’ me, Creedo,” Nicky slurred, leading him by the hand into Hannigan’s. “Behind these doors is e’erything you want.” 

Credence very much doubted that. 

Inside, Hannigan’s was even less pretty than its exterior. The room was dimly lit and mostly empty, save for a few shelves of useless knick-knacks on the wall. There was a counter at the back. The lady sitting behind it was asleep. 

“Maybe we should leave,” Credence said, feeling oddly nervous. It had been a mistake in the first place, to get so involved in this as he was. What had he been thinking? 

Nicky had other ideas. “Ey, Maureen,” Nicky shouted, slapping the counter near the sleeping lady. 

Maureen jumped, and looked around wildly for a moment before her eyes landed on Nicky. “Oh, it’s you,” She muttered, straightening the wig she was wearing. “Felt like givin’ me an attack, didja?” Shaking her head, she took a key and went to a door behind her marked  _ BROOMS AND MOPS _ . She opened it and gestured for them to go inside. 

Tipping an imaginary hat to Maureen in  _ thank you,  _ Nicky sauntered through the mop closet. After a moment, Credence followed. 

After the night he’d had, Credence was only somewhat surprised to find himself in a speakeasy, and not a mop closet. Despite the lateness of the hour, the party going on inside Hannigan’s was in full swing. People danced and music played, and behind the bar a young man with an attractive freckled face slung drinks out with a smile. The place was brightly lit, which Credence found odd. He would have thought a criminal establishment would have been dimmer. But he supposed if the police raided the place, low-lighting wasn’t going to save anybody. 

Nicky went right up to the bartender. “Big C!” He called, getting the bartender's attention. The man came over, his smiling slipping as he looked at Nicky. “I got someone I want you to meet.”  

The man’s eyes slip from Nicky to Credence. He frowned. “Has he been like this all night?” He asked. There was worry in his voice. Credence nodded and the man shook his head. “Nick...”

“Clyde, this is Credence,” Nicky went on, ignoring Clyde’s obvious disdain for his inebriation. “He’s my new beau, and we’re going up to my room to fuck all night,” He said. Clyde raised an eyebrow at this, and Credence’s face turned pink. He thought he’d been getting used to such things -- Nicky had been going on in a similar fashion all night -- but hearing it said in front of someone else was different. 

“I -- I don’t, I’m not...” Credence stuttered. 

Clyde raised a hand. “Credence, thank you for bringing this drunken fairy home,” He said. Nicky blew a raspberry. “Nicky, go sleep this off and we’ll talk about the booze you nicked tomorrow.” 

Nicky seemed likely to protest, but Clyde raised an eyebrow and the younger man sighed. “Fine fine. I’m going.” He turned and left, waving airily at them as he went. Clyde watched after him. “He didn’t get into any trouble, did he?” 

Credence swallowed. “There was… a man. He tried to uh…. Nicky sort of...” 

Clyde seemed to understand what he was saying. “Did the guy get violent? Did you see what he looked like?” He asked. 

Credence shook his head. “It didn’t get that far. The cops were close, so the guy scattered.” 

Looking relieved, Clyde let out a breath. “Good, that’s good. First time in a while lady luck’s paid a visit to Nicky. Usually the guy pops him a few times before he can get away.” He sounded bitter. “Thank you… Credence, was it?” Credence nodded. “Thanks for bringing him home.” Turning behind him, Clyde pulled out a glass and began filling it with alcohol. “Here, on the house.” 

He almost refused, but why the hell not? Who was he to turn down something free when it was offered to him. The glass was cool under his palm, and Credence sipped the drink slowly. He coughed, and sputtered. It tasted terrible.

Clyde laughed. “Not much of a drinker, huh?” He asked. Credence shook his head. “Well, I won’t be offended if you can’t finish it. Not everyone takes to it like Nick.” 

Smacking his lips, and trying to get rid of the burning taste on his tongue, Credence looked at Clyde. “Is he…. I mean, does he...” He wasn’t sure how to phrase what he was asking. 

“You mean is he a homosexual, or a prostitute?” Clyde asked. Credence blinked. “Yes to both, is your answer.” 

“Oh,” Was all he could say. He had met a few prostitutes before, living on the streets, but they had all been women. For a lack of anything else to say, he took another drink. It was still terrible. “Are you…. ?” 

Clyde raised an eyebrow. “Which one?” He asked. Credence shrugged. “I’m not a prostitute,” He said, smirking. Credence realized how very rude the question had been. “As for a homosexual… not exactly. I guess I’m not too particular.” He said. 

Credence wondered what that meant. He raised his glass to his mouth. 

“And yourself?” Clyde asked, leaning forward on the counter. 

Credence choked on his drink. He didn’t answer. 

“Let me see… I doubt you would have been so shocked to learn about Nicky, if you were in the same occupation yourself… so I think we can rule that out.” He said slowly, looking Credence over. “But the other bit… it’s hard to say. Why does something make me think you’re not even sure yourself?” 

Perhaps it was the drink, or the scrutiny, but Credence’s entire face and neck were burning steadily now. He pulled at his collar by way of answer. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Clyde said, pulling down two more glasses for a few customers who had just walked up. “Spend enough time around Nicky and he’ll help you figure it out.” He filled their glasses and slid them down the bar, where they left their change. 

Clyde collected the change and deposited it in a register. He went back to Credence, and leaned in again. “Although I might be tempted to help you myself,” He said, winking. Credence gripped the stool he sat on, sure he was about the fall over. Clyde grinned at him, apparently enjoying the effect his words had. “You’re alright, Credence.” He said. “You’re alright.” 

* * *

Hannigan’s, it turned out, was more than just a typical speakeasy. It was also a hotel, albeit a fairly small one. They had two floors of rooms in the back, the bottom floor being for  _ staff  _ (Clyde said this mostly meant him and Nicky) and the top being for paying customers. Usually people only stayed for a night or so, when they didn’t want to be out drunk. Clyde said Credence was welcome to stay as long as wanted, as long as he was willing to work for his room and board. Credence was more than willing. 

“Alright, this is the room, you’ll be staying in,” Clyde said, unlocking the door to room 03. “You’re two doors down from Nicky, four down from me.” 

Credence nodded, looking around. The hotel area of Hannigan’s was clean, but not exactly what he would call luxury. The wall paper was peeling, and the lights flickered in the hallway. Down at the end of the hall, Credence noticed a door open. Credence peered at the open door, trying to decide if he thought he saw someone staring out at him. The door slammed abruptly. 

“Here you go,” Clyde opened the door, and Credence stepped inside. The room may have been small, but it was hard for Credence to say. It was bigger than the room he’d had with Mary-Lou, and about a hundred times better than anything he’d found on the streets. It was clean, and warm and there was a fresh set of linens on the bed. He may as well have found heaven. “Hope it’s alright. We don’t have a turn down service or anything, so you’ll have to make the bed yourself. Carol used to help with that sort of thing but...” Clyde trailed off. 

“Who’s Carol?” Credence asked, stepping into the room. 

There was a look of hesitation on Clyde’s face. “She was… she used to work here. Did a bit of everything, I guess. She was like Nicky, you know, a working girl… those two were close as anything.” 

Credence remembered the red haired girl he used to see Nicky around with. He didn’t think he’d seen her for a while. “What happened to her?” He asked. 

Clyde wouldn’t meet his eyes when he answered. “Don’t know, really. Ran off with some john, I guess….” He ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Real shame though. Nicky misses her. He’s been really hitting the booze after she left.” Clyde looked up. “Anything else you need?” 

Credence paused. “Who’s staying at the end of the hall?” He asked. 

“Wow, you ask a lot of questions, eh?” Clyde remarked. He chuckled nervously. 

Credence waited. 

Clyde sighed. “Officially, no one is staying down there. But if he’s gonna keep poking his head out…. Just don’t bother him, ok? And I ever send you up to him with a drink, don’t make small talk. Just give him the booze and move on.”

Credence nodded. 

“That all?” 

Credence nodded again. Clyde looked relieved. “Alright. You start work early tomorrow, so get some sleep. There’s a toothbrush in the bathroom, and soap in the shower. If you need anything, I’m down the hall to the left.” He cast one more glance at Credence, before depositing the key on the dresser. Then he shut the door behind him. 

Suddenly feeling light headed and dazed, Credence took a seat on the edge of his bed and marveled at how things could change to drastically in one night. In a matter of hours, he’d gone from having no one and nothing, to a place to sleep and a job. It didn’t feel like a hand out either, like staying with Queenie and Tina. Clyde didn’t want to coddle or heal him, he just needed a job done and Credence was a person who could do it. 

Getting ready for bed that night, Credence thought about what Clyde had asked him about himself, and how he’d been unable to answer. Mary-Lou has always said it was a grave, burn-in-hell forever kind of sin, but Mary-Lou had been crazy. And the way Clyde and Nicky talked about it, it was like it was hardly even a big deal. 

Credence knew most people outside of Hannigan’s would be more inclined to side with Mary-Lou, but inside… perhaps Credence had found a place where he could finally be himself. 

Whoever that was. 


	2. The Shake and Shout

Credence didn’t know much about working in a speakeasy, but he tried his best to learn quickly. Mostly that meant doing whatever Clyde told him to do, which tended to be fairly simple tasks... at first. 

“Pick this up, move it here” or “help get these tables set up.” 

The longer he worked there, the more faith Clyde seemed to place in him (though Credence wished he wouldn’t). He began teaching him how to tend bar and work the register, how to balance the books and keep track of their inventory. Most of these things Credence didn’t mind, and was happy to learn… but not bar tending. Pouring drinks, taking money and giving change was all fine and dandy, but so many people -- an exorbitant number, really -- wanted to  _ talk  _ to him. They chatted, they made small talk, they complained about the days they’d had and the weather outside… Credence never knew what to say back, so mostly he just said nothing. 

If the customers noticed Credence’s  _ nod and smile  _ method of bar tending, they never seemed to say so to his face. Mostly they just chatted away, oblivious to the one sided conversation. Unfortunately for Credence, Clyde did notice, and was not pleased. 

Cleaning up one night after last call, Clyde attempted to give Credence a lesson in charisma. 

Standing at the bar, Clyde stared straight ahead and rhythmically dragged a damp cloth over the surface of the bar, cleaning it. He stood stiffly, and didn’t smile. Credence wondered if this was him doing an impression of Credence. “Credence, do you see what I’m doing here? Do you see how I look?” 

Credence frowned. “You look like you’re cleaning...” He guessed. 

This was incorrect. “No, Creedo. I look  _ unapproachable. _ ” Clyde corrected. “And that’s how  _ you  _ look, too. People don’t feel like they can laugh, or pal around with you. They think you just want to serve them their drinks, and take their money and be done with it.” 

Credence bit his lip. “That is what I want,” He said quietly. 

The astounded look on Clyde’s face told him this answer was also incorrect. 

“C’mere,” Clyde said, gesturing for Credence to come over to the bar. Credence slouched his way over, and stood next to Clyde. “Alright, I’m going to be a customer. I want you to joke around, have some fun. Flirt a bit.” 

Credence thought that seemed a tall order. He had never joked or flirted in his life. 

Clyde went around to the other side of the bar, and put his elbow on the counter. He sighed loudly. “Boy, what a day, I tell ya'.” He looked up Credence pointedly. 

“Sir, please get your elbow off the bar,” Credence replied. “My boss just cleaned it.” 

Clyde straightened up, and seemed torn between laughing and shouting. “Alright, so you _can_ make jokes,” Clyde allowed. “That’s good. Now we just need a little less dryness and a little more flirt.” 

Credence stared at him. He seemed to be asking an awful lot. 

“Look, okay pretend I’m a pretty gal who just walked in. I’m all by myself and I’ve never been to a speakeasy before. The wrong word and I might leave without spilling a drop. The right word, and who knows what the night might bring.” 

Sitting back down at the counter, Clyde put on a breathy, feminine voice. “Well hello there handsome, what are you serving tonight?” He asked, batting his eyelashes. 

Trying to ignore the flush creeping up in his neck, Credence glanced to the side, trying to think of something flirtatious to say. “We have… alcohol?” He said. 

Clyde raised an eyebrow. “Are you not sure?” He asked, losing his breathy voice. 

Credence cleared his throat. “No, I’m sure. We have alcohol,” he said, more firmly this time. 

“Good,” Clyde said. “If nothing else, you should be sure of that. Now tell me Creedo, what part of that was flirting?” 

Credence groaned. “I don’t know...” He hung his head. 

“Do you want to change up the scenario a bit?” Clyde asked. He leaned forward towards Credence and lowered his voice. “Instead of a pretty lady would you prefer I be a pretty guy?” 

Credence turned away, his face instantly flushing red. “I… I don’t...” 

“See, this is your problem, Credence,” Clyde said, moving back around the counter. “You’re too stiff. You gotta loosen up, relax a bit. Get to know yourself, learn what you like. Let yourself  _ feel  _ things,” 

Credence looked at his shoes. “I feel things,” He said quietly. 

“Yeah?” Clyde took a step towards him, and Credence pressed himself back against the bar behind him. “What do you feel, Credence?” He put two fingers beneath Credence’s chin and tilted his face up until Credence was looking him dead in the eye. “Tell me.”

“I can’t,” Credence whispered. “I’m scared.” 

Clyde’s eyes seemed to roam over Credence’s face, as if he was searching for something. Lifting his hand, Clyde brushed his fingers over Credence’s cheek and cupped Credence’s face in his hands. “You don’t need to be. Not anymore.”

Credence knees felt weak, and as Clyde leaned in and pressed a deep kiss against his mouth, he was sure that if not for the counter he was leaning against, he would have fallen over. He didn’t know what to do with his hands; did he put them on Clyde, hold him and keep him close? Did he push him away, scream that he didn’t want this, that this was wrong and bad and terrible…

Only the thing was, he did want it. He wanted Clyde, and he wanted Clyde’s mouth roaming over his own, pressing heated kisses against his gasping lips. He wanted Clyde’s hands on his body, pulling at his shirt and pressing against the untouched flesh underneath. 

Clyde pushed, lifted Credence until he was sitting on the bar behind them and Clyde was spreading his legs and moving his body between them, getting closer. Credence wrapped his arms around Clyde’s shoulders, wanting him to keep him there, keep him this close, forever. 

Clyde’s mouth moved to Credence’s ear, where he sucked on the lobe before whispering “tell me when to stop… you have to… tell me when it’s enough,” Clyde sounded breathless and dazed and it was a wonder to Credence that he could have been enjoying this the same way Credence was. Surely Credence was only giving him something he’d had a thousand times before. 

Pulling Clyde’s face back, Credence desperately recaptured his mouth, eager for another taste. He could feel a stiffness between Clyde’s legs, pressed firm against the growing tension he felt himself. His breath was growing short and a heat was building his chest, making his shoulders shake. 

“Credence,” Clyde mumbled. “What’s...” 

At the exact moment that Credence realized the shaking had spread from his shoulders to the bar around them, the walls and floor and cabinet vibrating at a high speed, three glasses fell from the cabinet beside them. Credence cringed, waiting for the shatter… but it never came. Instead, the glasses stopped, hanging in mid air as if suspended by an invisible thread. 

Grabbing them quickly, Clyde shoved the glasses back into the cabinet. He looked as panicked as Credence felt. What happened now? Did Clyde burn him at the stake? Did he blackmail him, threaten to expose his secret to the world?

Credence stared at him. He wondered if there was any excuse he could possibly offer. 

Strangely, Clyde seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “That happens sometimes,” Clyde said, with an air of one who was desperately searching to explain the unexplainable. “Um… it’s… can we just go on as if this didn’t happen?” 

Credence stared at him. Was Clyde a wizard? Did he think he’d caused this? Either way, Credence was fine with his plan. He could easily pretend this hadn’t happened. 

Nodding, Credence pulled at his collar. It suddenly was feeling very hot in the room. “I um… should go to bed.” He muttered. 

Clyde agreed, and they retired to their respective rooms for the night.

* * *

 

Very early in the morning, Credence discovered the reasons that Clyde had not suspected Credence as the cause of the disturbance. He had been lying awake in his bed, thinking about kissing Clyde and feeling embarrassed about his desperation. He had been thinking about the shaking, and wondering how much time he had before he turned into the Obscurus again. If the little wisps of black smoke coming off his hand as he moved it around in the darkness were any indication… it was not long. 

The sun was just starting to peek through the blinds in Credence’s room, when the shaking started again. Credence sat up, horrified as the room around him began to shake. Somehow, though he wasn’t sure how, he knew this was not coming from him. The room rocked violently and the bed he sat on lifted a foot off the ground before crashing back down with a loud  _ thump. _ The lamp next to him fell off the side table it sat on, the bulb shattering on impact. 

Quite suddenly, everything was still. There was silence. And then, in the dark, a scream. It was long, low and blood curdling, a terrified shriek. Credence bolted out of bed and into the hallway, looking for the source. 

No one else had come out of their room, and the screaming stopped. But Credence was sure somehow, that it had come from the room at the end of the hall. 

Credence returned to his bedroom, mind buzzing with questions. However, despite the many questions he still had… at least now he had one answer. Clyde was not a wizard… but the man at the end of the hallway was. 

* * *

The following morning Credence went to Nicky to ask about the man down the hall (he wasn’t sure he’d be able to meet Clyde’s eyes after what had happened between them). They were cleaning one of the rooms on the top floor, and he tried to bring it up as casually as possible.

“So… these people have left now,” Credence began, referring to the people’s whose room they were cleaning. “Who else is staying here right now?”

Nicky paused, in the middle of sweeping the floor. “Hmm… I think there’s a guy in room 12, and maybe two ladies in room 14? Not sure if they left already. Might have. Clyde would know better.”

“Right...” Credence said slowly. “But there’s someone else, isn’t there? On our floor…?” Nicky looked up at him, and Credence did he best to look inconspicuous.

Nicky sighed. “Geez Creedo, if you wanted to ask about the shake and shout, just do it.” He resumed sweeping, shaking his head. “I’m not a girl, don’t need all this foreplay...”

“The shake and shout?” Credence repeated. 

“Mmhm. S’what I call it, when he does that. Has a bad dream or something I guess and everything shakes. Clyde tells the guests we have like, tremors or something, I don’t know. Drives me up the wall. And the screaming… I mean it didn’t last so long last night, but sometimes it goes on for _ ever. _ ”  

“So, what do you think it is?” Credence pressed. “The shaking?” 

Nicky shrugged, but he wrinkled his nose in a way that made Credence suspect there was something he wasn’t saying. “Nicky?” 

“There’s just some stuff in this world you can’t explain, Creedo,” Nicky said. Now he appeared to be the one trying to sound casual. “I try not to question it. Y’know, keep my nose clean and all.” 

Credence was set to press him further, when there was a knock on the frame of the door. Clyde appeared in the doorway. “Hey, Nicky, you got a customer in room 13.” He said. “I can take over helping, if you want.” 

Nicky set the broom aside, and frowned. “A customer? What time is it?” He asked. “We’re not even open yet. Is it that guy with the mustache again? Real tall, skinny dude?” Clyde nodded. Nicky shook his head. “I told him nights only...” He shook his head, and left the room, muttering to himself. 

Clyde smiled, and Credence went back to putting fresh sheets on the bed. “Let me give you a hand...” He said, going to the other side of the bed. He pulled at the white sheets, tucking them in neatly under the mattress. “Hospital corners, my mom always called them.” Clyde said, tucking the sheets tight. “She was a nurse.” 

Credence looked up. “Was?” He asked. 

“Died when I was 11,” Clyde said, quite casually. “My dad did, too. They both got sick, probably something she picked up from the hospital. They sent me away so I wouldn’t catch it, to my aunts.” 

“I’m sorry,” Credence said. Clyde shrugged, and pulled the comforter up on the bed. “I’m… my family is all dead too.”  _ Because I killed them,  _ Credence thought. There was still Modesty, but she wouldn’t speak to him. 

Clyde nodded. He looked up. “Credence, about last night...” Clyde ran his fingers through his dark hair. “I shouldn’t have done what I did. Let it go so far. I just… I only meant to flirt with you a bit, you know? Try and get under your skin. I never meant to...” 

Trying not to look hurt, Credence turned away and started to wipe down the dresser. “Why did you then,” He asked. 

He heard Clyde sigh. “I just… I was looking at you, and you looked so, so scared about what you were feeling and I wanted to give you something good. Show you that there’s nothing to be scared of. And...”

Clyde paused, and Credence heard him walking up behind him. He turned back around. Clyde was close now. “And?” Credence pressed. 

Taking a step forward, Clyde’s eyes searched Credence’s face just as they had the night before. He wondered what he was looking for. “And I really, really wanted to kiss you.” He said quietly. 

Credence looked at him. “So then kiss me.” He said, surprising himself. 

Clyde looked surprised as well. “Do you want me to?”

Credence nodded. His eyes drifted to Clyde’s mouth, and he remembered how it felt upon his own the night before. He couldn’t remember ever wanting something so much. Clyde kissed him. 

As they fell back upon the freshly made bed together, the open door to the room closed on its own. 

* * *

Credence had always considered himself a shy person. He had trouble talking to most people, especially when they were strangers or if he anticipated them being mean to him. Trust was not something he gave easily, and after what had happened with the Grindelwald he didn’t really expect to trust anyone ever again.

Credence was a shy, timid person. He was not bold, he was not daring and he was not seductive. Nicky could go up to someone eyeing him from across the room, stride over and whisper in his ear that for the right cash, he’d made all their perverted dreams come true. Sometimes he got punched for this (Clyde did his best to let it go no further than that, and often tried to prevent the initial punch if he could get there in time) but sometimes they’d wind up going back to his room and spending the night together. 

Credence couldn’t do that. He didn’t have it in him. And lying in bed and listening to the things Nicky and his customers would do together… Credence didn’t think he had  _ that  _ in him either. Listening to the moaning and groaning, the pounding and the  _ thud thud thud  _ of the flimsy metal bed frame moving against the scratched wood floor… Credence didn’t think that would ever be him. He just  wasn’t built for that sort of stuff. 

Even if he wanted it. 

Even if he lay in bed night after night, listening to the perverse sexual acts taking place two doors down from him, and his hand reached down the pants of his pajamas, as if it had a mind of its own. Even if he would bite his pillow to keep from making any noise of his own. 

No, that wasn’t him. And it never would be. 

* * *

Fist gripping the metal bars of Clyde’s headboard, Credence bit his lip almost hard enough to draw blood. His breath was coming in short gasps and he knew that he was close. Kneeling behind him, Clyde’s grip on his hips tightened and Credence knew that meant he was close to. “F-fuck,” Credence stuttered. “Fuck me harder… Oh  _ god... _ ”

It had been over a month since the first time they’d been together, the night after their first kiss and Credence had discovered something: he liked sex. He liked sex a lot. It wasn’t at all like Mary-Lou Barbone had said it would be, when she’d dared comment on the subject. It wasn’t disgusting and treacherous, an act that would surely lead those who engaged in it outside of wedlock straight into the bowels of hell. It was awful, and it wasn’t dirty. Well, it might have been a little dirty. But in a good way. 

“C-credence,” Clyde murmured, his voice strained. “I--” He cried out and his grip on Credence’s hips loosened. Credence’s head dropped as he finally let go, and felt the orgasm wash over him. 

Together the fell back on the bed, sweaty and exhausted. Clyde reached down and removed his rubber, tossing it onto a cloth that lay on the night table beside them. Then he pulled Credence into his arms and pressed his mouth against the against the back of Credence’s neck. He breathed in deeply. 

This was Credence’s favourite part. He pressed himself back against Clyde, and pulled the covers up around them. This was what he was after, what he’d wanted the whole time. Sex was good, and sex was fun… but this… this was magic. Lying in Clyde’s arms, he felt safer than he’d ever felt. He was warm and happy and all was good in the world. 

Clyde kissed his ear, and bit the lobe. Credence smiled. “That was amazing, Creedo,” Clyde mumbled sleepily. Credence had to agree, but was too tired and content to speak. “But can I ask you something?” 

Credence nodded by way of reply. He turned onto his back and looked up at Clyde. Clyde raised an eyebrow. “ _ Fuck me harder? _ ” He repeated. Credence’s face turned red. “You never talk like that. Where’d that come from?” 

He considered not answering. After a moment, he decided he should. “Nicky said it…  _ shouted  _ it, I guess… a few nights ago. It, I don’t know. It sounded like a good line.” 

Clyde leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against Credence’s mouth. “It is, it’s a good line,” He whispered. “But you don’t need to use any lines on me. I’m not some john you’re trying to show a good time.” 

Nodding, Credence lifted his hand and placed it against Clyde’s handsome face. “What are you, then?” He asked quietly. 

Clyde opened his mouth to answer, but before he could the door to Clyde’s room burst open. “WHERE IS HE?” Someone shouted. Credence’s whole body tensed with fear. Clyde sat up in bed. “Where the fuck is he?!?” 

“Jesus H Christ, calm the fuck down!” Clyde shouted back at the intruder. He had a wild, crazed look in his eye and a long, overgrown beard. “You can’t just come in here like this...” 

“Grindelwald!” The man shouted. Credence froze.  _ What?  _ “I know he’s here, where the fuck are you hiding him?!” The man pointed something at Clyde, something like a long black stick. But Credence knew what it really was. And he knew who the man was, too. 

Clyde didn’t seem frightened. “And what are you going to do with that, hmm? Refill my glass?”

The man waved the wand to the side, slicing it through the air, and the lamp that was next to Clyde on the night table flew into the air and smacked Clyde on the head. He crumpled down on the bed, unconscious. Credence went to see if he was alright, his heart pounding in his chest. Before he could check on Clyde, the man in the doorway gave a great yell and charged forward. Terrified, Credence put his arm out and a great pillar of black smoke billowed from his hand, knocking the man backwards. The smoke pushed him out into the hallway, slamming him right up against the wall at the other end. The man’s head thudded against the window, and he slumped to the ground. 

Slowly, the smoke drew back, retreating into Credence’s palm. 

Gathering up the sheets around his waist, Credence moved to the doorway, surveying the damage he’d done. Aside from the unconscious man, and a few paintings tilted askew, nothing seemed much disturbed. All was still. 

“What the fuck...?” 

Credence jumped, and turned to see Nicky standing in the doorway of his room. His eyes were wide, and he stared between the man and Credence. “Uh...” He wondered how much Nicky had seen. 

“Was that what I think it was?” Nicky asked, leaving his room and looking at Credence. “Holy shit, it’s you isn’t it? You’re the obscura- thingy from the papers! Oh god.” 

The room was starting to spin a bit, and Credence was sure he had to be dreaming. This couldn’t be happening. Of all the witches and wizards to the at the end of the hallway, it couldn’t have been  _ him… _

“Didn’t you die?” Nicky asked, peering down the hallway at the man he’d knocked unconscious. The man whose face Credence hadn’t immediately recognized under his beard and grown out hair. The man whose face he’d never wanted to see again in his life.  

The man called Percival Graves. 

Credence looked from Graves to Nicky, and considered the question. “Just a little,” He said.    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're thinking. "Why is Credence having sex with someone who isn't Graves?" 
> 
> I wanted Credence to have had a relationship before Graves. I wanted him to have some frame of reference, something to compare things too. I wanted him to be a little more experienced and a little more confident when him and Graves get together. Also I've been picturing Clyde as Bryan Dechart and he is pretty. 
> 
> I promise Graves will be more prominent in the next chapter. And that he will be mentioned to get a haircut and shave at some point. But give the man a break, he's been traumatized and he doesn't even get to be in the sequel.


	3. Monsters in the Dark

The three of them sat around a table in the otherwise empty bar. Nicky had poured them all drinks, but Credence hadn’t touched his. Nicky was sipping his drink slowly, while Clyde had finished the drink before him in three large gulps. He had a cloth filled with ice pressed against the wound on his forehead, and he looked dazed and dishevelled.

Nicky drummed his fingers against his glass. “So… who wants to start?” A few moments passed, and he received no answer. “Okay, how about I start. Firstly… what the hell happened?”

“That bastard witch hit me over the head with a lamp, that’s what happened,” Clyde grumbled. 

“Sure, that we got, but why?” Nicky pressed. 

“How should I know?” Clyde cried. “Credence and I were minding our own business and he just burst through the door, screaming about someone named Grindervlat.”

“Grindelwald,” Credence said quietly. 

The name didn’t seem to mean anything to Clyde, but it did to Nicky. “I’m sorry, Grindelwald?” Nicky repeated, looking panicked. “As in  _ the  _ Grindelwald?” 

Clyde snorted. “Honestly I doubt that’s a common name. I’m sure it’s the same Grindelwald.”

This did little calm Nicky’s panic. “But why would he be looking for Grindelwald? Isn’t he supposed to be locked up at Macusa? That’s what the paper said.” 

Reaching for the bottle Nicky had left on the table, Clyde poured himself another, rather large, drink. “The fucks a  _ macoosa? _ ” He muttered. 

“It’s the government,” Credence  said. “Magical Congress of the United States of America. Macusa for short.” 

Nicky shook his head. “I can’t believe all this is happening. I mean, you read about something in the papers and it seems all well and fine, like it’s not real, you know? Next thing you know you’ve got an Obscurus sleeping with your boss and someone is looking for the darkest wizard of our age as if he’s hiding in our closets.”

Clyde, finishing off his drink, raised an eyebrow. “Who’m I sleeping with?” He looked at Credence. “What?” 

Credence sighed. He looked at Nicky. “How do you know about all of this? How do either of you? The Wizarding World is supposed to be a secret. No-majs aren’t supposed to know.” 

Nicky’s mouth opened, as if in offense. “You take that back!” He cried. 

Credence frowned. “Take what--”

“I am  _ not  _ a no-maj. How dare-- unsay it!” 

“I can’t unsay it... ” Credence felt terribly confused. “If you’re not a no-maj then… you’re a wizard?”

Nicky wrinkled his nose. “I’m a squib.” 

“You’re a squid?” Clyde asked, squinting at Nicky. “Like with all the tentacles and the ink...”

“A squi _ b, _ ” Nicky repeated, putting extra emphasis on the B sound. “With a B.”

“Ooh,” Clyde said, nodding. “The fucks a squib?” 

“It’s someone with magic ancestry, but no magic themselves...” Credence explained quietly. He recalled hearing those words said to him so many months ago. He remembered the way his stomach had sunk, how his shoulders had been begun to shake… 

_ “You can control it, Credence,” _

_ “But I don’t think I want to, Mr. Graves.” _

The memory made him ill. And while the man who’d hurt him so much was locked away, the person who looked just like him was upstairs at this moment. The thought was painful. 

Shaking his head, Clyde put his ice-pack down on the table and raised both his hands. “I’m so confused. Nicky’s a squid and you’re a what now?”

“I’m a squib! S-Q-U-I-B!” Nicky protested. 

Clyde didn’t seem concerned. He looked at Credence, and seemed to be trying to keep steady. “What are you, Credence?”

Looking back and forth between the two of them, Credence answered as honestly as he could. “I don’t know.”

* * *

Credence slept in his own bed that night. Clyde had all but passed out at the table, and after he and Nicky hauled him the stairs to his own room, Credence sort of felt like being alone. He thought about the conversation they’d had, and what he’d learned. 

Nicky had been born to a very old wizarding family, in New Jersey. At 17 years old, when it seemed certain he would never show any signs of magic, they kicked him out. Wrote him out of the will, burned his face off the family tree, and pretended he had died. He was living on the streets when he’d met Clyde, who allowed him to stay with him in exchange for help running the bootlegging business, which he’d inherited from his father, who’d recently passed away. 

Nicky helped Clyde struggle to keep his business afloat, secretly running his own business on the side off of Clyde’s customers. While Nicky’s business was doing alright, Clyde’s was failing. And when their supplier got busted by the heat, it seemed like they were up the creek. 

That is, until a man walked into their establishment. He seemed slightly drunk already, but ordered a glass of the strong stuff anyhow. The guy was in rough condition, that much anyone could tell. And while Clyde wasn’t usually one to contribute to a person’s misery, the way business was he didn’t really have the option of refusing to serve someone with perfectly good cash. 

Because their stores were drying up, Clyde was forced to close early that night. Supply was dead, but it seemed for once, demand was high. The guy didn’t want to leave. Clyde told him he could finish his drink, but when the few drops he had left were gone, that was all there was. 

According to Nicky, the man had taken out a long black stick from his pocket and pointed it as the glass. He’d muttered something under his breath and suddenly-- miraculously-- the glass had refilled itself before their very eyes. Nicky realized they had a wizard in their bar, and Clyde had more or less passed out. 

He came to quickly, and according to Nicky, caused a panic that rivaled the town of Salem. It had taken Nicky an hour and two glasses of bourbon to calm him down. He explained about magic and wizards to him, and told him his secret. 

It was early in the morning by the time Nicky seemed to believe and trust him. They had both almost forgotten about the guy who had started the panic, until they found him passed out at their bar. 

Together they took him up to a room and let him sleep it off. 

In the morning, Clyde awoke with a plan. 

They needed alcohol and this guy, who’d clearly been having a rough time of it, could probably use a place to stay and some warm meals in his belly. Clyde proposed a deal; he could stay in one of their rooms, and they’d keep him in food and drink. In exchange, he would keep their stores up. The man agreed. 

And this is how Percival Graves came to be living at Hannigan’s. 

* * *

Once Nicky finished telling his story, Credence did his best to tell his own. He told them about how he’d started losing time, waking up in funny places without any idea how he got there. He told them about meeting the man he’d  _ thought  _ was Percival Graves. How he’d told him all about wizards and magic, and promised him he could be one too.  _ “I’ll teach you, my boy,” He’d said, his voice warm on Credence’s ear. “I’ll teach you everything you want to know...” _

Credence told them about how it was truly Grindelwald all along, and how he’d betrayed Credence when he’d thought he’d gotten all he could from him. He told them about killing his mother and sister, and the senator. Nicky had already known about the deaths, but hearing about them first hand seemed to shock him. Credence hadn’t wanted to go on with his story, but Nicky had placed a hand upon his and promised his was safe, and that they understood it wasn’t his fault. Though he knew this to be untrue, he accepted the comfort. 

Nicky knew all about the showdown with the Aurors in the train station, but Credence went over it anyways. He told him how he’d exploded, shattered into a thousand small shards and somehow been put back together again. He didn’t mention how he was sure he’d been put back wrong. 

When he was done, they were exhausted and Clyde was asleep on the table. They’d carried him upstairs together and tucked him into bed. Nicky had left the room, and Credence had lingered, looking down at him. He wondered if Clyde would ever understand any of what he’d said tonight. He wondered if he even could. 

Lying in bed thinking about the last several hours, Credence wondered how it was that he’d come to be at this place. Was it magic that had brought him here, or perhaps fate? It somehow seemed to him that Hannigan’s might have been the only place in the universe where he may have truly belonged. They didn’t care if he had an inclination for men, they didn’t care that he was cursed… or a monster... he’d told them all about it and they hadn’t cared at all. 

It seemed to be that they accepted him, for who he truly was. And that was good. That was great even. Except that he would die, of course, before he could ever repay the kindness. He would die, that much was certain. All of him, this time, and for good. 

Credence thought over his conversation with Nicky and Clyde. He thought they cared for him, and accepted him as he was. And as much as he appreciated it, he couldn’t help wish for someone to understand him as well. 

* * *

Credence was late waking up the next morning. Even after he did wake he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, willing himself to get up and shower. He’d barely drank the night before, but someone he felt as slow and sluggish as if he’d kept up with Clyde. He assumed that however he was feeling, Clyde was feeling much worse. 

Eventually he rolled out of bed and managed to get himself in and out of the shower, with at least some vague washing happening in between. He was in the middle of getting dressed, buttoning up a shirt Nicky had given to him (apparently he couldn’t be trusted to dress himself-- Nicky was always giving him clothes, though whether they were bought or stolen he did not know) when the door to his room burst open. 

Jumping at the noise, Credence decided he really needed to talk to Clyde about how easy it was to open their doors without a key. 

The man who’d burst in at least seemed calmer this time, although Percival Graves appeared no less rough looking. His beard was unkempt and Credence couldn’t have guessed the last time he’d washed his hair. There was the same wild look in his eye from the night before, although he wasn’t screaming and shouting so Credence considered this an improvement. 

“I -- ” Looking around, Graves seemed to be slowly comprehending the situation, as Credence hastily finished buttoning up his shirt. “I should have knocked.” 

Credence snorted. “Is that something you know how to do?” He muttered, stepping back towards the washroom. He didn’t feel like he was about to get attacked, but he couldn’t have been certain. 

Graves stared at him for a moment, then left the room, closing the door behind him. A moment later, there was a knock at the door. 

Credence sighed deeply, and called for him to come in. 

Re-entering the room, Graves nodded his head in thanks.Credence waited for him to say something, possibly an explanation of what he wanted, but nothing came. He just stood there. 

Credence decided he should do the talking. “Why did you attack Clyde last night?” 

“I didn’t…. I didn’t mean to,” Graves mumbled, not looking directly at Credence. “I get, sort of… sometimes I get confused. I have nightmares and sometimes when they’re...  it’s hard to tell what’s real. I thought he was one of Grindelwald’s followers. I’m sorry.” 

His voice was quiet, and when he said Grindelwald’s name, he flinched slightly. Credence felt himself softening. Clearly whatever Grindelwald had put him through while he was pretending to be him, it was fairly terrible. Credence hadn’t given much thought to the man before, the person who Grindelwald had pretended to be… but now that the man was in front, Credence saw him for what he was: another victim of Grindelwald’s, just like him. 

“It’s alright,” Credence said gently. “I have nightmares to. After what happened...” 

Graves looked up, and for a second made eye contact with Credence. His eyes, despite the wild and frightened look in them, were the same honey-brown he remembered. 

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Graves said, stepping forward. “Everything that happened, I saw it all. I was imprisoned by Grindelwald, but our minds-- he connected our minds, so he could impersonate me. I saw everything.” He swallowed. “And I saw you die. How are you not dead, Credence?”

Involuntarily, Credence flinched. Hearing Graves saying his name again, even if it was a different Graves -- the  _ real  _ Graves -- it hurt something deep inside of him. He knew this was not the man who’d used and abused him, but he looked and sounded just like him. It was painful. 

“I don’t know,” Credence admitted. “I… it felt as if I’d died. I thought I had. The last thing I remember is the Aurors casting their spells. Then suddenly I was with Queenie and Tina and just…. wasn’t dead.”

Graves nodded, as if that made any sense at all. But what did, in the wizarding world? “You’re more powerful than even he…. even Grindelwald knew,” He said softly. “At least your safe from him now.” 

Credence snorted, and sat down on the bed. “I don’t feel very safe,” He muttered, thinking about the smokey black wisps coming off his body in the night, or the way the Obscurus had manifested the night before, and attached Graves. It had left him alive, and the building was still standing, so perhaps it was weaker than before… but it was still there. Still inside him. 

Flinching slightly, Graves made a movement as if he had intended to step towards Credence, but thought better of it. “Do- do you mean you don’t feel safe from _ him…  _ or from yourself?” He asked, staring at Credence with a somewhat frightening intensity. “I saw what you did last night. The Obscurus… it’s still inside of you, isn’t it?” 

Slowly, Credence nodded. 

Turning away, Graves swore under his breath. “Do you think he was right?” He asked, still looking anywhere but Credence. 

“Do I think he was right about what?” 

With apparent difficulty, Graves made himself look back at Credence. “When he was looking for the Obscurus… before he knew it was you… he was convinced that whoever it was did not have much time left.” 

Credence recalled. 

_...the child is dying, Credence… _

“You’re stronger than any Obscurus that he’d ever heard of,” Graves was saying. “But eventually, it will be too much, even for you. You’ll die, just like he thought you would.” 

An ill feeling rose up in Credence’s stomach. He knew all this, why did he have to hear it again? Standing up, he turned on Graves. “Thank you, that’s very helpful of you to say. I appreciate the assistance, I really do.” He spat. 

Graves stepped back, flinching again. Credence felt his anger ebb away. None of this was Graves’ fault. Why did he blame him? 

“You’re right...” Graves muttered, stepping out of the room. “I can’t help you. I can’t help anyone anymore...” 

“Wait, please, I’m --” Before Credence could finish his sentence, Graves was gone. Credence heard the door at the end of the hall slam shut. “Sorry….”    
  


* * *

Clyde was in a sour mood that night. Credence didn’t see him until the bar opened, and when he did Clyde didn’t seem inclined to share more than a few words with him. He looked tired, as if he hadn’t slept much the night before. Credence was sure he could attribute that to him being intensely hungover. Still, he couldn’t help feeling there was a pointedness to his silence. 

Credence was tending bar that night, and he tried to do his best to chat with the customers, even flirt a little. He didn’t think he was too successful at it, but he hoped the attempt was enough to get him some points with Clyde. 

“So then I said, ‘don’t lose your head, darling… at least not until you’ve given me some!” Nicky finished, walking up to the bar with a square-jawed man in tow. The man laughed at Nicky’s story, staring at him as if he had all the answers in the world. Nicky tended to have that effect on men, but Credence knew he usually sent them home with more questions than answers. It was easy to fall in love with a guy like Nick, but not so easy to get him to love you back. 

Grinning at Credence, Nicky ordered them both a drink and took a seat at the bar. “How goes it Creedo?” Nicky asked, as Credence poured him a drink. “Slow night?” 

“How can it be slow with you around?” Credence asked, trying out his conversational skills. He smiled at Nicky, whose mouth opened slightly. 

“Was that a flirtation, Credence?” Nicky asked, pretending to be shocked. He looked at the man he was with, as if asking his opinion. “Did my ears deceive me?”

Credence shook his head, still smiling. It was nice to know that despite everything he’d learned, Nicky’s feelings towards him hadn’t changed. If only he could so sure about Clyde…

“Im Jonathan,” The square-jawed man said, reaching across the bar to shake Credence’s hand. He had a firm grip, but didn’t squeeze too hard. His hand was a bit sweaty though, which told Credence he was probably nervous. 

“Credence,” He replied. “Good to meet you,” 

Jonathan nodded. He and Nicky stayed at the bar while they finished their drinks, but were too caught up in each other to pay much more mind to Credence. They thanked him after they’d finished, and then headed up to Nicky’s room. Credence hoped they wouldn’t be too loud. 

The night passed uneventfully after that, and soon it was early in the morning, and last call had come and gone. It was when he was cleaning up the bar once the last patron had left that he finally found himself alone with Clyde. 

They cleaned in silence for a while, and Credence was just working up the courage to start a conversation when Clyde finally spoke. “I saw you… talking to people tonight...” He began. “That’s good. It’s good to see you opening up.” 

Credence snorted. “I wouldn’t call it opening up,” He said. “I’m still anxious, and then every time I say something I have to lie awake all night and think about it and how stupid I sounded.” He shook his head. “Everyone who talks to me probably walks away thinking about what an idiot I am.” 

He put his hand on a chair, getting ready to hoist it up onto a table, but stopped when Clyde came over a put a hand on top of his own. “You’re doing good, Credence,” Clyde said, his voice softer. “No one thinks you’re an idiot, I promise.” 

Considering a rebuttal, Credence turned away. “I suppose there are… more interesting things that could keep me up all night though...” Credence looked back at Clyde and tried to catch his eye, but Clyde was looking away. 

Another few moments of silence passed between them. “Were you ever going to tell me?” Clyde asked, his voice soft. 

He didn’t need to ask what he meant. It occurred to him to lie, to spare Clyde’s feelings… but he knew that he deserved the truth. “No,” Credence said. “Not if I could have helped it.” 

Clyde shook his head. “That’s what I thought,” He muttered. 

Moving over to him, Credence put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not that… I did think about it. When I realized there was something going on, with the shaking and all that stuff… but I just didn’t know how. And I was afraid that if you found out the truth you’d think… no, you’d know what I was.” 

Clyde lifted his eyes and looked directly into Credence’s. “And what is that, Credence?” 

Credence sighed. “A freak. Even… even by wizarding standards, I am a freak. And I just didn’t want it to change things between us.” He placed his hand on Clyde’s cheek, his thumb gently brushing over his lips. “I liked how things were. I like… how you looked at me.” 

Breathing in deeply, Clyde put his hand on top of Credence’s, and kissed the palm of his hand. He looked at him, eyes solemn. “And has it changed?” He asked. 

“I don’t know...” He stepped closer. “Has it?”

Clyde took his hand away, and Credence cupped Clyde’s face in both his hands. He looked at him for a moment, and leaned in and pressed a slow kiss against his mouth. And much to his relief, he felt Clyde kiss him back. 

The Obscurus and Graves would all still be there in the morning, but for the night, Credence allowed himself to be lost in something good, and warm. Clyde was a light in Credence’s darkness, and Credence would cling to him for as long as he could. But he knew it wouldn’t be long before that light could no longer keep the monsters at bay. 

  
And whether those monsters were out in the world... or somewhere deep inside of him, Credence could not have said.   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So at the moment, Clyde and Nicky are kind of... optional characters, in the long run? I mean they have a purpose, but I can include them more or take them out, depending on people's feelings. So let me know how you feel about them, and I'll see whether people want more or less of them.

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is an introduction to the world the fic is set in. Percival will obviously be more prominent as chapters go on, as will his interactions with Credence. Without giving too much away, this is probably going to be more of a "road trip" fic than anything else, with the characters eventually finding reason to be travelling somewhere. I plan to bring in some elements from the new movie (the details of which I don't have yet, as I have yet to see the movie).


End file.
